Avengers On Standby
by Kurtoise
Summary: After preventing Loki's invasion, the Avengers return to their normal routines. They begin to see the effects that their new partnership will have on their personal lives. Adventures, love, pain, everything starts to happen as this new family begins. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Avengers On Standby - Chapter One**

In the aftermath of the New York City attack, the group splintered off and returned to their respective habitats. Thor returned to Asgard with Loki, Steve retreated to his humble apartment in Brooklyn, Clint and Natasha returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Tony took Bruce to visit his labs at Stark Tower. In the wake of the destruction, Stark Enterprises and Oscorp emerged as the two major financial contributors to the cleanup of the city. With hundreds of people killed and millions of dollars worth of damage, Tony personally led the reconstruction campaign and lent Stark Tower's resources to aid the injured, during the immediate time of emergency.

After a night's stay at Stark Tower, Bruce figures he should head back to Calcutta or maybe go to the Philippines instead. Although, after Natasha's revelation that he hadn't actually escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, as he was previously convinced he had, any relevance to leave arguably seems to be absent. Yet he decides to leave a note on his door thanking Tony for his hospitality and informing him of his departure. After scribbling down the words and jamming the paper in between the door, Bruce secures his bag's strap and turns toward the elevator. As he approaches the metal shuttle in anticipation of JARVIS catching him and his mechanical voice notifying the entire floor, he is instead stopped in his tracks by a different, more disappointed voice.

"Going somewhere?" it said.

"Uh...I was just, uh..." Bruce stammered, as he turned around to see Tony leaning against the doorframe of the guest bedroom he had just slept in.

"Hmm, what's this? 'Thank you for your hospitality, but I have to get going. See you soon. Bruce'," Tony said after pulling Bruce's note from the door frame.

"That's my, uh… my note. I didn't think anybody was awake at 4 a.m. so I thought I'd leave a note."

"You mean, you _decided_ to leave at 4 a.m. _because_ nobody would be awake."

"Uh… Fine," Bruce sighed. "You're right. I was sneaking out."

"Yeah, I always am," Tony retorted, as he began closing the distance between them.

"Look, I'm sorry I was gonna leave without telling you. I ju-," began Bruce.

"No, no. It's fine."

"Really...?"

"Sure. It's not like we fought against an alien army that was trying to conquer the Earth, together, or anything. I thought we were friends, Bruce," Tony teased.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that."

"Ha-ha, okay, okay," surrendered Tony. "Where were you gonna go, anyway?"

"Funny. Um, back to Calcutta or maybe the Philip- What do you mean 'were'?"

"Well, I'd say I've effectively guilted you into staying, hence past tense. Hey, come see what I'm thinking of adding to the suit," Tony said as he walked away, expecting Bruce to just simply follow him along the twisting halls to one of his numerous labs, like some puppy. Oddly, Bruce found himself doing just that.

* * *

_Bruce? Bruce..? How could you do this? _A cold voice spoke, seemingly, directly into his ear.

_He was my father, Bruce, and now he's gone. _The voice came harsher now, almost angry.

_You did this. It's your fault. You destroy everything! _His apprehension grew as the voice became more familiar.

_Why, Bruce? Do you not love me anymore? _Bruce! Could it- No. Betty? Oh God.

_Please, Bruce. Just stay out of my life. You're a monster!_ Awaking, bolt-upright in a cold sweat, Bruce registers that it was just a bad dream. He returns his damp head to the soft pillow and wills himself to sleep, though he fails in his attempt to ignore the fact that he is too afraid to close his eyes.

As his digital watch starts beeping, signalling for him to get up, Bruce slides out from under his cloud-like cocoon and staggers across the carpet, towards the door, with his head hanging down slightly, most likely being weighed down by the heavy bags that have formed beneath his eyes. He exits his room, barely registering anything in his peripheral vision, and homes in on the sofa sitting opposite the kitchen area of the floor. As his vision comes into focus, he sees a figure in the kitchen slowly materialise and instantly knew it was Tony. Although Tony's bedroom is located in the Penthouse, which he rarely uses when Pepper isn't there due to his tendency to not sleep when he's working on his suit, which is quite often, it is not uncommon for him to hang out on Bruce's floor, considering the labs are conveniently located on the same level.

"Wow. You look rough. Get much sleep?" Tony quizzed.

"Nah, not really."

"Here, have some juice."

"Thanks." Bruce takes the glass of orange juice Tony is holding out and takes a sip, allowing the sharp liquid to settle in his mouth, figuring the sour taste will squeeze his senses into action. Tasting an extra kick, he asks "Is there alcohol in this?"

"Yeah…? Problem?"

"It's eight o'clock!"

"What, something wrong with Mimosas now, huh? Just shut up and drink. You look like you need it."

Finding himself unable to argue with his response, Bruce finishes his morning Mimosa.

* * *

Walking against a cool and refreshing breeze, Bruce was careful not to wobble, the one morning Mimosa had led to two more. Bruce would prefer to be able to say his early buzz was a result of Tony's questionable influence, but he is all too aware of how deeply his dream affected him. So, instead of working with dangerous chemicals and heavy machinery, Bruce thought it to be more responsible to take a walk to clear his head.

The deep blue sky looked like a blanket stretched above him. The only impurities on the ethereal canvas were a couple of clouds and an aeroplane, with its trail, scattered across it. The flawlessly mowed grass and the overhead leaves added the perfect splash of green to the picturesque day. Bruce couldn't help the thought of how devastating the addition of some _extra_ green would be. Then he had another thought. So he turned around and began walking back to Stark Tower.

* * *

Upon arrival at Stark Tower, Bruce swiftly entered the elevator and pushed the floor numbers of Tony's possible location. With the effects of his morning Mimosas still lingering, Bruce neglected to mentally prepare himself for the classic 'Tony' elevator music. Heavy metal after a morning buzz isn't what he considers enjoyment. Finding Tony on the second button pressed made Bruce feel a slight feeling of pride, which he shrugs off as the remnants of his intoxication. Tony is working on some machine and clearly didn't hear his footsteps so Bruce decides to just instigate a conversation instead of using the cliché 'clearing-my-throat' move.

"Tony!"

"Huh?" Tony said as he slid out from beneath the machine. "Oh, hey buddy. What's up?"

"Hi, you got a minute?" Bruce asked as he noticed how Tony in sweatpants and covered in grease is a humbling picture. He asks himself how long it will take for Tony's words to ruin that image.

"Sure. If you have a cheeseburger." There it is.

"Come on, it's important."

"Oh. Sure, go ahead," Tony relented as he stood up.

"My stance on looking for a cure for my… condition, is currently a little fuzzy. So, I've mostly been working on trying to understand it," started Bruce.

"Mhmm…"

"Well, I've determined that there isn't a sure-fire way for me to revert back, when I've changed accidentally. The other guy just kinda-"

"Burns himself out," Tony finished.

"Exactly. So I thought that maybe we could work on some sort of damage-control project. Like a target for… Hulk, to focus on-"

"Instead of destroying everything in sight."

"Precisely."

"I like it. Have anything in mind?"

"Not really. Even vibranium wouldn't hold forever. So some kinda wall wouldn't work."

"How about someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if someone could go toe-to-toe with Hulk until he wore out?"

"I dunno. I mean, he's on par with Thor and can get stronger."

"How about me?"

"What? Are you crazy? The other guy would tear through your gold-titanium alloy as if it were tissue paper."

"Okay. A, I love how you got the alloy right and B, not my suit in its current form."

"What, you mean create some kind of Hulk-buster armour?"

"Think about it, if the suit was somehow reinforced to withstand some blows it would be the perfect counter. It's agile and has decent enough firepower. Maybe it could allow me to stall out a rampage."

"Maybe, but it would be dangerous. And how would you reinforce your armour?"

"Hmm… Maybe some sort of exoskeleton?"

"That would be simpler than having a different suit. You could just put it on over your armour."

"Yeah. But it would probably cost some utility and mobility."

"Hmm. Maybe," Bruce said, still slightly sceptical of Tony fighting Hulk.

"Hey, come on. Who else could do it?"

"Uh… yeah. I know," Bruce says as his face tightens into a look of concern.

Tony notices this and questions his turn, "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just…ugh. What if General Ross finds out about this? It would make the military want your suit even more."

"Hey. If we did this, it would be top secret. Only you and me would know about it and it will solely be used to contain a Hulk rampage where people could get hurt. You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep Ross away from you."

"What? Really?" Bruce said, completely taken aback by Tony's sudden and considerable loyalty.

"Of course. We're friends, right?" replied Tony, with a grin on his face. However, Bruce did not feel as comforted as Tony intended him to be.

"You know what, I don't need someone to look after me, Tony. I'm not some animal. I thought you saw that," Bruce snapped. Then he turned and headed toward the elevator. As the metal doors shut behind him, he saw Tony's perplexed face trying to work out what had just happened.

* * *

**A/N Hey guys, first fic here. Hope you enjoy :P**

**You're welcome to leave a review and I'm happy to reply if you'd like.**

**Happy Shipping!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Steve returns home from his morning workout still slightly out of breath. He immediately throws down his bag and slides off his shoes then, walking toward the bathroom; he pulls off his sweaty vest and opened the door. He tosses his vest into the basket sitting next to his sink and grabs a hold of his sweatpants, tugging them down. Now sitting on the edge of his bath he pulls the rest of his sweats off from around his ankles, he can feel the coolness of the metal bath seeping through the fibres of his boxer shorts so he stands back up and thumbs the waistband of his boxers and slips them off. Pushing the shower curtain aside, Steve steps into his bath and turns on the shower. The initial burst of cold water manages to invoke a soft gasp from his pale pink lips, before warming up to a comfortable temperature. He let the forceful stream wash over his face, like baptismal waters, as if to scour away his pain. All he once knew is now a part of history. His friends, his family, his life, they're all a faded memory now. And not just faded for him, but for everyone. Steve picks up the bar of soap that was lying in its tray; he takes a moment to appreciate how some things haven't changed and then he begins to wash himself. He slides the soap over his wet chest and then rolls his head back, as his hands glide lower down his body.

Exiting the bathroom with a white towel around his waist, Steve walks toward his kitchen. Feeling somewhat refreshed from the shower, he opens his refrigerator and pulls out a carton of milk. Closing the refrigerator door, he reaches for a glass next to his sink with his defined arm muscles glistening in the sunlight piercing his kitchen. He pours the opaque liquid into the transparent glass before returning the carton back to the fridge. He goes to sip his drink but finds himself gulping it down; clearly he is thirstier than he thought. The sensation of the chilled milk sliding down his throat sends a slight shiver across his body, reminding him to get dressed before he gets too cold. Finishing his milk, Steve heads off toward his bedroom. Stepping into the dark room, he opens his curtains. Usually, he opens them as soon as he gets out of bed but, today, he just wanted to exercise as soon as possible. He unwinds the towel from around his waist and the previously covered area is welcomed by cool air. Using the towel, Steve rubs his body all over to rid himself of excess moisture. He tosses the towel into a pile in the corner and pulls out his clothes for today. Picking up his red cotton boxer shorts, Steve guides his feet into the holes, then he slides them up his legs and settles the waistband around his hips. The cotton fabric now covering up his previously bare body, Steve continues to get dressed, putting on a white t-shirt and his favourite blue jeans. He sits down to put on his white socks and remembers he still needs to do his laundry, but he mentally notes that he needs to learn how to work a washing machine first.

* * *

Walking home from the grocery store, along the concrete pavement, Steve sees the outside of his apartment building getting closer and closer. Finally arriving at the front door, he inserts his key into the lock and proceeds to open the door. Closing the door behind him, Steve carries both full paper bags up the stairs, up until his floor. Taking out his keys, once again, he inserts it into the lock of his apartment door. Something doesn't feel right. Turning the key and opening the door, he enters his apartment and hears a noise, a footstep. He walks over to his kitchen and places his bags down on the counter. A hand touches his shoulder and he spins around in a blink, gripping the hand that touched him as he does so. Upon turning around, relief fills Steve's face and he lets the hand go.

"Hello, Captain."

"Director Fury. It's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, there isn't time for pleasantries. There's something you should know."

"I'm listening," Steve replied, aware of the tension in Fury's voice.

"Okay, get your bag. You're coming with me."

Watching Fury leave his apartment, Steve grabs his 'S.H.I.E.L.D. bag', as he calls it, and hurries after him.

After getting into the back of the jet black car and pulling away from his building, Steve decides it's reasonable to break the silence.

"So what's going on?" he questioned.

"You will be informed of the whole situation when we arrive," Fury responded. "Take the next right, it's faster."

Steve decides to be quiet until they arrive at wherever they're heading. For some reason, he feels more apprehensive than he believes he should. There is just something about Fury's attitude that has him on edge. He can only wait until he finds out what is so important.

* * *

After a short while of driving in silence, Steve looks out of the tinted window to see the docks coming into view. That's when he realised that Fury was taking him aboard the Helicarrier. The car stopped close to the water and Fury left the vehicle. Following his lead, Steve stepped out of the car and walked behind Fury. Still in silence, they boarded the Helicarrier and continued on to the main control room. Upon arrival, Steve instantly saw Natasha and Clint standing behind the sitting area.

"Hey, do you know what this is about?" he asked them.

"Not a clue. Got called off of an assignment to hear this," Clint replied.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm concerned," he stated.

"Trust me, we are too," chimed in Natasha.

"Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, Agent Romanov, I assume you're wondering why I've called you here today," Fury started. "I apologise for the secrecy, but we cannot be compromised. This is an important and delicate situation and needs to be handled by the best. That is why I have called you three, here today."

"Okay. Why don't you get started, then?" Clint directed.

"We have understood for a while that the organisation 'HYDRA' never actually disbanded. Simply, went into remission. However, over the past six months their behaviours have been... anomalous."

"Wait, 'anomalous'? Do you mean they've become active again?" Steve questioned.

"No, they haven't become _active_, quite the opposite."

"What do you mean?" asked Clint.

"I mean, HYDRA have never stopped being active. Their work has always been minor and we've handled any of their major endeavours. Only now, over the past six months, they've been unusually quiet."

"And you think they're up to something?" Natasha asked.

"We know they are. Actually, we know exactly what they are up to. It's a project that they call 'Winter Soldier'."

"What is that?" Steve asked, still not aware of the significance towards him.

"That's where our intel dries up. All we have is their apparent hiatus, 'Winter Soldier' and... one other thing." Fury said, with his voice hesitating slightly.

"Which is?" Steve asked.

Exhaling, he prepared himself to inform Steve of what he knew. "We intercepted some HYDRA radio chatter. We couldn't deduce what they were discussing, but...they mentioned a name. Sergeant James Barnes."

The moment that name fell from Fury's lips, Steve felt his stomach drop. His heart rate increased ten-fold and he could feel his face flush. He feels his eyes may start to well up but he refuses to allow them to, so he blinks away the sensation. Attempting to talk, he finds he has a lump in his throat and his mouth has dried up. Reiterating the name in his head, "Sergeant James Barnes", he finally manages to speak. Hearing him croak; Fury, Natasha and Clint make out the word he uttered. Bucky.

* * *

**A/N Hey guys :P**

**Hope you're enjoying, ****I'm going to try and upload once a week, if possible.**

**Unless you want longer chapters? Then it may take a little longer.**

**Anyway, Happy Shipping!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Avengers On Standby - Chapter Three**

Piercing the darkness, dots of light shine through the bars of the prison window. The starlight, combined with the faint moonbeam glimmering through the window in the opposite cell, illuminates his pale face just enough to see his emerald green eyes. The green orbs scan the trail of light over to the cell's golden bars that prevent his escape. Once again, he raises his trembling hand and places it upon one of the bars. Instantaneously, a burning pain rushes through his hand and he pulls it back within seconds. His hope that the magic had worn off was both naive and pathetic. He knows that a criminal of his stature requires containment magic that only the metal "uru" can penetrate. The only way he will be walking out of this cell, alive, is if Odin wishes it. He now elevates his burning hand to be seen from the starlight, revealing the deep red, burn-like imprint left on his palm and the pulsating green glow emanating from the surrounding veins. He knows the damage to be impermanent yet he cannot prevent a brief feeling of shock from breaking through his composure. He truly feels criminal.

* * *

As he paces down the marble hallway, with the floor's crystalline shine being as profound as always, Thor feels that his echoing footsteps seem to be reverberating through his chest. He mentally counts off the arches remaining between him and his destination, as he passes under them, just as he would do to navigate as a boy. Seven remain. With each arch disappearing from the corner of his eye, as he marches on, the feeling of angst in his gut grows. Three remain. Thor slows his pace and finds his eyes, which were surprisingly focused dead-ahead of him for the entire walk, drift off to look to his side. His attempt to distract himself, by admiring the intricacies of the gold marble arches, fails as he stops beneath one of them. The final arch. He closes his eyes and exhales in order to will his heart rate to calm itself. Satisfied that he can no longer put it off, Thor reaches toward the door to his right and pushes it open. Walking in, he allows the heavy door to fall shut behind him.

Concealed within the shadows, Thor slowly lifts his gaze away from the floor and guides it around the room. The room has no candles, leaving the room dependent on natural light to illuminate it. The stone walls appear grey but the dim light prevents Thor from being certain. Despite the room being built a short while ago, Thor senses a considerably aged atmosphere. A sole mahogany table and chair sit against a wall, clearly meaning to have an occupant. Thor wonders where the absentee may be but understands their need to get away from this place. It must get incredibly lonely. He almost smirks from the irony. It's the perfect place.

"Who's there?" comes a voice, from the back of the room.

Stepping out of the darkness, Thor allows his face to enter the soft beam of moonlight that pervades the majority of the room.

"Ah. It's you," came the voice, again.

"Loki. I do not wish to fight with you brother," Thor assured.

"If that is true, then why do you insist on calling me 'brother'? You know, full well, my true heritage." Loki spat.

"That I do, Loki. Yet it does not matter to me. I consider you one of us, as I always will."

"You truly believe you can say that to me with sincerity while I sit behind these bars, caged like an animal? You only prove how different we are," scoffed Loki.

"Your imprisonment is your own doing, brother."

"And you were more than happy to put me here," Loki concluded.

"Brother, please. Do not twist my words into things that are not true. I only mean to say that you did wrong but I am prepared to aid you in redemption. So that Father and Mother may have their son back. And I my brother," Thor explained, with the softest of smiles gracing his tired face.

"Get out."

"What?" asked Thor, his smile erasing as quickly as it appeared.

"Get. OUT!" Loki howled, lunging against the bars of his cell, holding on to them tightly with his face resting in a gap between two bars as the magic imbued within them slowly burnt his skin.

"Loki stop. You're hurting yourself," Thor pleaded, wide-eyed as he watched Loki's skin sizzle before him. "Loki, please. Stop."

With a growl, Loki releases his hold on the bars and backs away. The moonlight catches his pale and skinny face, for a moment, allowing Thor to see the magic's damage. Speechless, he just stares as Loki's face fades into the darkness.

"Thor. Go. Just leave me. Please," he commands, his voice cracking slightly.

Thor nods, slowly turns on his heel, and leaves the prison as swiftly as he can. Neither the sound of the door shutting behind him nor his heavy footsteps, as he runs down the hall, can drown out the sound of Loki's flesh hissing, in his mind.

* * *

Bursting through the golden door, Thor eyes around the room frantically. Through the small haze of light, reflected off of the golden furniture, Thor see's his mother sitting on her chair reading a book. Concerned and leering at him, she asks, "Thor? What is wrong?"

"Father. Where is he? I must speak with him immediately."

"He is not here, at present. Thor, what is this about? You're concerning me."

"I am sorry, Mother. It is just, I went to see Loki."

"You did? What has happened? Thor, has he escaped?" Frigga asks, standing up from her chair.

"No. No, Mother. There is no cause for alarm," consoles Thor.

"Okay," Frigga says, relieved. "Then what is it that you are concerned of?"

"His arrangements. Mother he is like a criminal in that jail. I fear his staying there will do more harm than good," Thor explains.

"But Thor, he is a criminal."

"I know," he yells. "I'm sorry. It was just hard seeing him that way. He is our family and he is there all alone, even the guard refrains from spending time there with him. I know he has done wrong, but he is one of us. Mother, he does not deserve this."

Seeing Thor's sapphire eyes sparkling from the tears forming as he wells up, Frigga makes a decision. "Okay Thor. I will tell your father you wish to speak with him, when he returns."

"Thank you Mother, I will be in my chamber." Thor says before a sigh.

Watching Thor leave, Frigga lays her book down with barely an echo. When the golden door shuts, she starts off toward the door in the opposite direction with her dress swaying behind her. She leaves through the side exit, hurrying to her destination.

* * *

Sitting on his prison cell floor with his back against the wall, Loki turns his head so his cheek rests against the wall. The cold brick first stings his wound but then begins to soothe the pain. His face still burns from the magic and he knows that the twin gashes will take much longer to heal. He half regrets putting himself in that position. He lightly traces his right index finger around the wound on his left hand. It is distinctively warmer than the rest of his palm. He wonders if his veins have protruded from his face, like they did on his hand. His fingers only touch his face for him to feel that that is indeed the case. He imagines them to be like rivers, forking and meandering over his face. He remembers how he once got swept away by a river's current, as a boy. Thor had jumped in, attempting to save him, and got swept up as well. Fortunately, Sif managed to find Odin in time to rescue them. Once Odin had fished them out of the water, they both coughed and wheezed trying to regain their breath. Once Thor had regained his, the first words to leave his mouth were "Loki, are you well?". From that day, Thor and Loki would save each other's lives on more than one occasion. Loki was not surprised that Thor would think he could be saved, this time, but was at a loss for an explanation as to how that thought was giving him a lump in his throat. A small thump followed by a creak informed Loki of someone entering the prison again.

"When I told you to leave, Thor, I didn't intend for you to come back again," Loki started. When the door shut and the hairs on back of his neck stood on end, Loki realised it was not Thor who had come to visit again, but someone else. "Who goes there?"

A hesitant voice replied, "Be quiet. We do not have much time."

Loki then hears the sound of metal hitting the bars of his cell. It took him until after his cell door was open to realise that he was being freed. A soft hand takes his own and leads him to stand up. He finds himself standing up, even though he is not sure it is safe. For some reason, he does feel safe. Comfortable, even. When he is stood up straight, Loki can see who unlocked his jail cell in the moonlight.

"Mother?"

* * *

**A/N I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update!**

**I had exams and all sorts but it should be okay from now on.**

**Hope you like it and Happy Shipping :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**Avengers On Standby - Chapter Four**

A slight breeze whisked over the balcony, softly rustling Bruce's curly brown hair making the locks shine in the noonday sun. He takes a deep breath as he leans over the railing with his eyes closed. Opening his eyes, he scans the city below. Black cracks still deface the grey landscape while the loud rumbling noise of workers' attempts to fix the destruction echo beyond his location. Bruce reckons the sounds could be heard from Tony's penthouse balcony, although he knows that it is unlikely that Tony would be up there to hear them himself. Watching the ant-like pedestrians scurrying around the taped-off 'unsafe' areas of the streets did little to distract Bruce from his little outburst with Tony.

_This is why I should have left. Who was I kidding, thinking I could stay here? A heavily populated city. All it took for me to bite Tony's head off was a tame discussion. What little will it take to bring out the monster if I'm this on-edge just talking with a friend? Crap. Tony. He's probably pissed at me. Why the hell did I snap at him like that? All he was doing was being friendly. He wasn't calling me a lab rat or saying I should be locked away under the ownership of the government. Quite the opposite, actually. So, why?_

"I hope you're not thinking of jumping, now Bruce," came Tony's familiar voice.

"Tony. No. I, uh- How did you know I was here?" Bruce asked.

"JARVIS," he replied as he stepped onto the balcony from leaning against the glass door.

"Ah. I shoulda guessed."

"Yeah, you shoulda."

"Look, about before. I just wan-"

"No need," Tony interrupted. "Wow. Beautiful day, isn't it? Sorta."

"What, really?"

"Of course. You got the sun, the sky, the clouds, the… exhaust fumes. Oh and the bird crap. Can't forget the bird crap."

"That's not what I mean." sighed Bruce, as he sidestepped from a freshly made white puddle.

"I know what you meant, Bruce. And really, there's no need to apologise. I get it," Tony started. "I know how it feels to be a prisoner. I can only imagine what it feels like to be a fugitive. And an innocent one, at that."

"I wouldn't call myself innocent," Bruce managed, slightly lost for words.

"I know _you_ wouldn't. But you are," Tony said, turning to look Bruce in the eye. "You didn't ask for Hulk. But you've got 'im and he has done things and will do things that are out of your control. You need to accept that or you'll just make Ross's deficient claim to Hulk easier for him to accomplish. But in the meantime, Ross has both Tony Stark and Iron Man to get through before he can get his hands on you. And I assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure he can't do that."

With a sigh, Bruce conceded, "You're right."

"I know. I always am," exhaled Tony, before turning on his heel and walking toward the glass doors to go inside.

"And, Tony…"

"Yeah?" Tony replied, stopping for a moment.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. What are friends for?" he responded, returning inside with his signature smirk painting his face.

Leaning over the railing again, Bruce didn't notice a similar smirk growing on his own face.

_Maybe staying put was the right call, after all._

* * *

Sitting under dim light in his desk chair, alone in his office, a tense military man attempts to relax after today's work. He can feel the warmth in his fingertips being drained away by the cold glass in his left hand, as he slowly brings the rim to his lips. Gently tilting the glass, he parts his lips to allow the chilled bourbon to flow into his mouth as the thawing ice cubes collide with his Chevron moustache. He takes the glass from his lips and lowers his arm back on to his desk, while maintaining his grasp on the glass. Swallowing the cool liquid induces a welcome burning sensation as it slides smoothly down his gullet. With his eyes squeezed shut, he rubs his temples with his right thumb and middle finger and rolls back his head to rest on top of his chair, willing his headache to dissolve.

A relatively loud knock on his office door causes him to wince slightly before responding.

"Come in!" he directed, agitating his headache slightly before hearing the door swing open.

"General Ross. There have been some developments. Regarding the Hulk."

"And they are?" General Ross responds, his eyes now open with interest.

"Well, most importantly, Sir. He is no longer trying to hide."

"What else, Talbot?" quizzed General Ross.

"Well, Sir. He's in New York. With Tony Stark," Major Talbot replied.

"Thank you, Glenn," General Ross dismissed.

"Yes Sir," Major Talbot concluded, as he closes Ross's office door.

He walks over to his window and opens the blinds. Filling the room with the soon-to-be-setting sun's light, he returns to his desk chair. More relaxed, with his headache seemingly alleviated, Ross's lips widen into a grin beneath his moustache allowing a small chuckle to escape from his breath.

_Well, Banner. Don't get too comfy._

* * *

Stepping foot out of the airport doors, after a tense flight, Dr. Elizabeth Ross Betty stops to readjust her left high heel, her leg bent at the knee and her foot raised behind her to bring her new black shoes into reach. Her thighs have limited mobility courtesy of her new skirt. "Sophisticated yet fun" as the clerk described it. She had decided that it was retail jargon for "impractical and expensive". Managing to free her left index finger from its bondage within her shoe, she returns her foot to the floor and continues walking. Thankfully, all she brought with her on the plane was her purse. Otherwise, she would be catching her heels trying to drag her suitcase behind her. That reminded her. She reaches for her new purse and unbuttons it, delving into it with her hand attempting to locate her mobile phone, in what seems like hammer space, within her leather accessory.

Eventually finding her phone, Betty dials the number she had Googled in the taxi ride to the first airport and holds it to her ear as it rings. The phone picks up on the other side.

"Hello, Stark Enterprises. How may I help you?" came a discernible British male voice.

"Hi. My name is Dr. Elizabeth Ross. I'm a cellular biologist at Culver University. I was hoping I could speak with Tony Stark. It's rather urgent."

"One moment. Please hold," said the voice, politely, leaving Betty waiting on the other side of the line. She brushes off the voice's slightly computerised tone as her imagination.

* * *

Tony thought he'd be completely used to being pinched, poked and prodded by cold, robotic arms by now. But, remarkably, there are still moments where he grits his teeth and clenches his ass, though he doesn't dare admit it, least of all to himself. This tendency is predominantly due to Dummy's unique ability to instantly provoke apprehension the moment he picks up a tool.

Instead of his lab, Tony feels like he is in a dentist's chair, about to undergo a root canal, except his suit has rendered itself immobile so he feels it is more akin to being strapped down in the chair with drills coming at him from all angles. But he's cool. He can take it. For a while, that is…

"Mr. Stark. You have a telephone call," interrupts JARVIS.

"I'm a little busy, JARVIS," Tony responded, agitated.

"She says it's urgent, sir."

"'She'? Who is 'she'?" Tony asked, his interest peaked.

"Dr. Elizabeth Ross. A cellular biologist at Culver university."

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'Dr. Elizabeth Ross. A cellular bi-'," begins JARVIS, completely oblivious to Tony's drastic change in tone.

"That's enough, JARVIS. Put her through," interrupts Tony.

"Very well, sir."

* * *

On her end of the line, Betty gets slightly concerned with how she's warming up to the elevator music-like melody, that is intended to limit the irritation a caller has with the people they are calling, that is chiming its way out of her phone. Feeling as if her prayers have been answered, she hears a click on the other end, half-expecting a British voice to refuse her request so she is surprised to hear a very different voice breaking her pseudo-elevator ride experience.

"You've got Tony Stark.

"Mr Stark, hi. I'm Dr. Elizabe-," Betty starts.

"I know who you are, doctor. And I also know your father. He's a pleasant man, isn't he?"

Practically feeling Tony's sarcasm oozing out of the earpiece of her phone, Betty decides to press on with the matter at hand.

"I'm not here to discuss my father, Mr. Stark. Nor you or I."

"Please. Call me Tony. And what is it you _do_ want to discuss, then?"

"Dr. Bruce Banner. I know he's living with you. I want to speak with him."

* * *

Having his suspicion confirmed did not give Tony the usual smug, pleased-with-himself feeling that he usually gets when he is right about something. Instead, he feels somewhat alarmed. His mind begins its typical routine of thinking up every conceivable question that needs to be answered. _How did she find out about Bruce? Was it her father? Does he know? Who else knows? Is the Tower compromised? Is Bruce safe? Et cetera?_ All he knows, for sure, is that he needs to find out all that he can and that a phone conversation is not the way to do so. Feeling that his heart has begun beating a little faster, he wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. In order to recover from his momentary lapse in composure, Tony inhales deeply before talking again.

"I don't think this should be discussed over the phone. Come to Stark Tower tomorrow, I will arrange a meeting for us to talk about this in detail. I have some questions of my own to ask."

"Then let's meet tonight. I'm in New York as we speak and I can get a cab to you in no time."

"What?" snapped Tony, slightly. "You're _in _New York?"

"Yeah…?" Betty answered, not initially realising Tony's reason for snapping. Catching on to Tony's thought process, Betty reassures him. "There is no cause for concern, Tony. I know how my father works. Both he and my fiancé think I'm at a doctor's lecture in Boston. I bought all new clothes before I left for the airport and left my suitcase and old clothes in a dumpster. In case he had people on my tail, they would have lost me in the mall. I paid for my clothes, cab and plane by cash and also this disposable cell phone. I can assure you, my father does not know I am here."

Although concluding that he is satisfied with her answer, Tony decides to err on the side of caution. "Okay. We can meet tonight."

"Really? Great, thank you. But I still want to speak with him now."

"Uh, I really think that it would be best if we-," Tony tried, being cut off by a more masculine sounding Betty. Realising the voice didn't come from his audio system, he turns around.

"Betty? Is that you?" came Bruce's unnecessarily elevated voice. He was clearly trying to ensure the audio system's microphone would pick up his voice so he underestimated its sensitivity.

"Bruce?!" came Betty's similarly loud voice.

"JARVIS!" Tony called, trying to break the tension that he suspected only he was feeling.

"Yes, sir?" JARVIS replied.

"Nothing," dismissed Tony, feeling his joke was ruined.

"Wait, why are you and Betty on the phone?" Bruce questioned, genuinely perplexed.

"I was trying to get a hold of you. Tony was kind enough to invite me over, later tonight. Weren't you Tony?" Betty tried, hoping Tony's apparent discomfort was enough to get away with inviting herself over.

"Uh, sure… Yeah, whatever," replied Tony. Not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, he was more concerned with why Bruce talking to Betty was bothering him so much. He brushes it off as a continuation of his earlier suspicions.

"Of course you did," chips in Bruce, barely containing a grin. He knows exactly what Betty just did and he can't help but find it funny, especially Tony's obliviousness to it. That's when it hit him. Tony and Betty really are his friends.

"Okay, I'm getting into a cab now," Betty states, her voice trailing off away from the phone's mouthpiece as she begins to tell the driver Stark Tower's address, another thing she had Googled earlier.

Walking over to Tony, smiling, Bruce begins to thank him. "Thanks for letting Betty visit me. I really appreciate it. You are okay with it though?"

Tony first notices that his earlier agreement was an invitation for Betty to see Bruce at the Tower, then before he can be alarmed he sees Bruce smiling and notices how it was his doing. Oddly, he liked that thought. And he also notices how good Bruce looks smiling, so he decides Bruce should smile more often. "Sure buddy. It's no problem," he smiles back.

After their exchange, Bruce nods and turns in wait of Betty finishing instructing her cab driver. Then, in that second, a frightful noise echoes throughout Tony's lab. A howling cacophony of breaking glass and crushing metal. Bruce jumps with a start while Tony, still not entirely stripped of his armour, instinctively reaches for his helmet. It takes the sound of panicked screaming for them to realise the sound did not originate from the lab. But from the audio system.

"Betty?" Bruce called. "BETTY?!"

* * *

**A/N Hope you like this chapter :P**

**The plot should be coming through in the next few chapters, so I hope you enjoy :D**

**You're welcome to leave a review and, as**** always, Happy Shipping xD**


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